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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223037">merry christmas, darling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettycooopers/pseuds/bettycooopers'>bettycooopers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twelve days of barchie [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, barchie takes new york tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:20:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettycooopers/pseuds/bettycooopers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no Greendale Christmas Village to walk through, or Fred’s hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, or Alice inviting Archie over to help light the extravagant tree in the front living room – so Betty’s decided they need to make some new traditions, just the two of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>twelve days of barchie [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>merry christmas, darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy day two! today, we join an au barchie for a walk through the bryant park christmas market. vibes ensue! see you tomorrow 💕</p><p>as always, thank you to my editor/co-conspirator/day planner, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/packedyoursaturday">becca</a> – thank you for always recognizing my paint can archie moments when i don't even make them explicit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Betty makes Archie walk the eighty or so blocks to Bryant Park because the Christmas market is better, there, she swears...and walking through the city in the late afternoon in the middle of December on the coldest day of the year is a rite of passage, apparently.</p><p>She ignores the way he purses his lips and suggests the <em> subway </em> could also be a rite of passage. “A <em> warmer </em> rite of passage, too,” he mumbles as she yanks him out onto Morningside and ignores him completely. </p><p>They both disregard the fact that they’re <em> from </em> New York, even if it’s upstate, and <em> rites of passage </em> don’t really apply to them. It’s their freshman year at their respective schools – she’s at Columbia, he’s at Manhattan School of Music – and their typical Christmas traditions aren’t exactly applicable outside of Riverdale. There’s no Greendale Christmas Village to walk through, or Fred’s hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, or Alice inviting Archie over to help light the extravagant tree in the front living room – so Betty’s decided they need to make some new traditions, just the two of them.</p><p>That part, Archie hadn’t seemed to mind so much – he seemed to like having traditions with his best friend. Betty’s glad at least <em> that </em> hasn’t changed this year, when it seems like basically everything else has.</p><p>They’ve decided to ignore the whole Jughead and Veronica thing – it’s better for them, she thinks, especially because Jughead is in Iowa, Veronica is upstate at Barnard, and none of them speak anymore...aside from Betty and Archie, that is. Betty and Archie, who go to school ten minutes apart and talk about everything, aside from the fact that just six months ago, they were considering throwing away their respective relationships to be together...and got caught. </p><p>They don’t talk about it, and it’s worked for them so far. They’ve had a slip here and there – things that were definitely more than just <em> friendship, </em> she’d guess, to anyone else. </p><p>Betty had wound up cuddled up in Archie’s bed on the eve of her first mid-term, having dug her fingernails a bit too hard into her palms from the stress of studying, and had listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat as his lips brushed over the shell of her ear and he’d rubbed her back in small circles until she’d fallen asleep. </p><p>Archie had spent the late hours of Halloween night calling Betty on repeat until she’d answered at 2 in the morning, listening to him drunkenly mumbling into her ear that he was trying to find her dorm room, but he’d gotten lost and would greatly appreciate her assistance. She’d pulled him into her building and pressed her hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, curling up in her bed next to him and ignoring the way he’d slipped his hand beneath her shirt, pressing his fingers roughly against her bare skin. </p><p>They’d kissed just once, the night before Thanksgiving break. Archie had walked her to Penn Station, dragging her small suitcase behind him the whole way. She’d moved to take it from him, settling her fingers over his. “You’re sure your mom will be here tomorrow, right?” Betty had asked, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure she trusted Mary not to leave Archie alone for Thanksgiving – at least, that’s what she’d decided to tell herself. Telling herself the truth – that she just wanted Archie to come back to Riverdale for Thanksgiving with her – didn’t really sound like a good idea.</p><p>“Of course I’m sure,” he’d chuckled, flipping his hand over beneath hers and lacing his fingers with her own. </p><p>“Okay,” she’d said, her voice soft. She kept her gaze on their hands. “You’re sure you don’t want to just come back with me?”</p><p>“Betty,” he’d laughed, and she’d looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. “You’ll be back in three days. I think we’ll be alright.”</p><p>“It’s a long time,” Betty had shrugged. “We don’t just go and spend three days apart all that often, anymore.”</p><p>“You know you can call me, right?” Archie had pressed his lips together, rocking back on his feet for a second before ducking his face down a bit, moving in closer to her. “You <em> should </em> call me, actually.”</p><p>“Oh, should I?” Betty had smiled, her eyes soft. “Why’s that?”</p><p>“So I don’t miss you too much,” Archie had grinned. “‘Cause I don’t know what exactly will happen when you get back if I miss you too much, you know?”</p><p>She’d shaken her head, ready to make fun of him, but he’d looked around and slid his free hand out of his pocket, then slipped his fingers into her hair in one motion, dipping his head down and kissing her softly, catching her by surprise. She’d squeezed his hand tightly, kissing him back, her eyes sticking shut even when he’d pulled back, his face still close to hers. She’d felt his breath on her face. “Arch,” she’d breathed, but he’d cut her off.</p><p>“You’re going to miss your train, Betts,” he’d mumbled, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “Go. Call me when you get to the station, alright?”</p><p>She’d listened and they’d mutually (wordlessly) decided not to talk about <em> that, </em>either...even though Betty could still feel his lips on hers, even a few weeks later.</p><p>Anyway, the walk they’re on is not straight city, at the very least — she pulls him into the park near 101st Street and laughs when, every fifteen minutes or so, he mumbles, “are we there yet,” into her ear. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her tight against him, laughing as she stumbles a little on her feet as they pass by the Great Lawn and weave through Sheep Meadow. </p><p>It’s cold — not <em> completely </em>unbearable, but cold enough that she feels it, that her nose is pink, that she wishes she wore gloves. Archie catches her blowing into her hands and tugs on her arm, laughing. He grabs both of her hands in his, blowing hot air into his palms and rubbing his hands over hers. “Stop,” she laughs without bothering to pull her hands away. </p><p>They make it out of Central Park on the south side and Betty pulls him another fifteen blocks down Sixth Avenue – it isn’t until the park comes into view that she sees him smiling, and feels her own face twisting into a grin. <em> “See,” </em> she chuckles, rolling her eyes up at him.</p><p>“It’s pretty,” he laughs, squeezing her hand, the one he hasn’t dropped just yet. “I mean, I don’t know if it really beats the Christmas Village in Greendale, but,” he shrugs, “it’s got some kind of charm.”</p><p>Betty scoffs, pulling him through the throngs of people on the crosswalk and leading him up the steps, into the park. The market itself consists of a dozen or so glass stalls with sloped roofs, all open to the air. There are lights strung up around the stalls, in the surrounding trees, through the rest of the park — and behind the stalls is a small ice rink, lit by fancy flood lighting. She grins up at him as he looks around, her thumb moving against his. “Totally beats Greendale,” she mumbles as she pulls him towards one of the closest stalls, trying not to grin when she hears him laughing down at her.</p><p>They weave their way in and out of the stalls, Betty laughing as Archie carefully investigates the things that catch his eye. In a booth of some upscale pet accessories, he pulls her over to a rack of tiny bow ties. “Betts,” he says, his voice low, “these...these are just bow ties for<em> dogs, </em>right? I’m not seeing things?” </p><p>Betty frowns. “It’s a <em> pet boutique, </em> Arch – of course they’re for dogs.” Archie furrows his brow and Betty lets out a laugh. “How about we go look at things that are for <em> people, </em> hmm?”</p><p>“They have that here?” Archie chuckles, and Betty shoves at his shoulder. He’s in his own element by the time they grab hot chocolate, Betty pressing her cold hands against the sides of the cup and grinning up at Archie, who’s got his eyes shut, his nose close to the paper lid of the cup. “Alright,” he says, his voice soft. She’s not sure, exactly, how he could feel her eyes on him, but she knows he must have. “This is where you really got me, you know m’a sucker for a good hot cocoa.”</p><p>“Not quite the Fred Andrews variety,” Betty shrugs, “but it’ll do.”</p><p>“Oh,” Archie takes a sip, flinching a little, and Betty rolls her eyes. “It’ll do.”</p><p>“Don’t <em> burn </em>yourself, Archie,” she laughs, poking him gently in the cheek, “wait for it to cool.”</p><p>“S’really only worth it if you singe a few taste buds,” he shrugs, taking another long, scalding sip. “Don’t you think?”</p><p><em> “No,” </em> Betty laughs, shaking her head and pulling him into the next booth. They weave their way through the little shops, Betty pointing out things here and there – “these could be good for your mom, Arch,” she says, admiring a pair of faux-emerald earrings in a black satin box, “very thoughtful.” Archie surveys them, but furrows his brow at the price tag and pulls her into the next stall. </p><p>She’s thumbing through a rack of scarves in one of the stalls that tout handmade goods, Archie bobbing around and looking at hand-painted ornaments, holding them out to her every few moments, when her fingers press against a soft, thick scarf in a deep navy. It reminds her of one of Archie’s sweaters – one she particularly likes, that accentuates the ripples of his muscles beneath the fabric without being too forward. “C’mere, doofus,” she laughs, as Archie knocks clumsily into a rack of glass ornaments and reaches out to steady them.</p><p>She pulls the scarf off of the rack and looks up at him, raising her brows and smiling when he seems to understand where she’s going, ducking his head a bit. She reaches up and slides it around the back of his neck, fussing with it and then sliding her fingers along the fabric, patting her palm against his chest. “Looks good,” she says, her voice thoughtful. </p><p>“Feels good,” Archie rumbles, his eyes closed. She smiles softly, then rips the little price tag off of the scarf and holds up a finger. </p><p>“Be right back,” she grins, slipping away before Archie can stop her and paying for the scarf up at the register. She feels him behind her, his hand on her waist, his chin on her shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t go buyin’ me stuff,” he mumbles, a smile in his voice. “It’ll make me think I have to go buyin’ <em> you </em>stuff, next.”</p><p>“You don’t have to buy me stuff,” Betty laughs, rolling her eyes as she takes her credit card back from the middle-aged shopkeeper behind the register. </p><p>She’s signing the receipt as Archie mumbles, “too late,” close to her ear, and Betty lets out a soft laugh.</p><p>“You two are sweet,” the shopkeeper says, her voice jerking Betty out of her reverie where Archie just <em> puts his head on her shoulder </em> like that, like it’s normal. She’s about to open her mouth and correct the woman when she feels Archie’s hand squeeze her waist through her coat.</p><p>“Thanks,” he chuckles, and she can tell he’s grinning. “It’s her, mostly.”</p><p>“Have a Merry Christmas,” Betty says, her voice small, a tentative smile on her lips as Archie leads them out of the stall. </p><p>Betty swallows, but Archie just slips his hand back into hers and pulls her along, into another stall where he proceeds to taste test seven different hot sauces and chat amicably with the shopkeeper while Betty’s brain buzzes.</p><p>She mellows out by the time they’re walking slowly past the ice rink. The sun has set, and Betty snaps a few photos of the tree in the center of the rink, all awash in white and blue lights, laughing as Archie commentates in a sports-caster tone about the skaters gliding over the ice in her ear. She slips her phone into her jacket pocket and wraps her arms around one of Archie’s, squeezing her hands in between his arm and his side to keep them warm. She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder and shutting her eyes for a long moment. There’s Christmas music playing softly from a hidden speaker, somewhere – <em> Merry Christmas, Darling, </em>she realizes – and she wonders, absently, if that’s been here this whole time. It seems to fit, now, though – in this moment where it’s just her and Archie. </p><p>Sometimes, just for herself, she lets her mind wander to what would’ve happened if they <em> hadn’t </em>just ignored everything that happened at the end of the school year. She figures they’d probably be here, doing this, anyway...Christmasing with him, in just the way the song is crooning. </p><p>“You’re thinking hard,” Archie says, and she can feel his lips on the side of her head. She nods. “About anything in particular?”</p><p>“You, mostly,” she shrugs. It’s not like that’s not normal, not when she’s <em> with </em>him, right now, anyway.</p><p>“That’s boring,” he mumbles, squeezing her lightly. </p><p>Betty laughs, shrugging. “A typical topic,” she mumbles, opening her eyes and peeking up at him. “What are you thinking about?”</p><p>“Much more interesting topic,” he notes, keeping his eyes on the ice rink. “You.”</p><p>“Ah,” Betty shivers a little, leaning into him further. “What about?”</p><p>“Well,” he lets out a little laugh and Betty registers, vaguely, that he sounds nervous. He stands up a little straighter and turns, Betty furrowing her brow as her hands slip away from his arm, cold air rushing around them. He grabs them quickly, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her a little closer, so they’re facing one another. Betty stares up at him in confusion, biting on her lower lip. She feels like she can’t breathe, and she isn’t totally sure why. “I’m thinking about how I don’t think I would’ve let anyone else drag me around this Christmas market all afternoon on the coldest day of the year, first of all.” He brushes his thumbs over hers, his eyes on their hands. “Which really just means I’m thinking you’re lucky I love you,” he flicks his gaze up to hers and Betty sucks in a breath, “but really, <em> I’m </em>lucky, ‘cause m’thinking you love me, too.”</p><p>She stares up at him, knowing her eyes are wide, knowing she’s supposed to <em> say </em>something, now, but her heart is hammering too hard in her chest to let her breathe, and the lack of air supply is making it hard to say words. She looks down at their hands, then back up at him and lets out a nervous, tiny laugh. She manages a soft, “You think so?”</p><p>Archie laughs, but she can tell it’s full of nerves and something in her softens, quickly. Of <em> course </em> she loves Archie. Of course she does...she has all along. She watches as he swallows. “I think so,” he nods.</p><p>“Well,” Betty takes a step closer, her head spinning. She slips her hands out of Archie’s grip and feels his hands settle on her waist. She reaches up and grabs the scarf on either side, the navy one, the one she loves on him, and pulls it gently until his face is down close to hers, his breath on her skin. “I know so,” she whispers, her voice just for him. </p><p>She feels his smile against her mouth, and the last thing her brain allows her to feel other than his lips on hers, before her brain melts into nothing, is the piped in music:<em> but I can dream and in my dreams, I'm Christmasing with you </em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/bettycooopers">twitter</a> or <a href="https://bettycooopers.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> if you feel like watching me break down in real time!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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